Moments
by striped-dianthus
Summary: A peek into the life of a nameless music student before, during, and after that pivotal moment in their life when they decide that they want to major in music and do it their entire life. Vignette right now. May become vignette(s) if inspiration strikes.


Uhhh...what just happened? I was looking through old writing on my computer and found this and just started typing when I should be doing homework... So, now I guess I'm posting it. Since I'm a huge procrastinator this will be listed as complete for now. I might update later, include vignettes of life at music school. And as for it being in the Nodame Cantabile section, I felt that it fit the best. Not the main characters or anything, but it could be a student at the conservatory. Maybe a nameless one. I don't know if future works will be about the same person or different people or maybe the view of others of that person. So basically, I don't anything. I hope you enjoy!

Summary: A peek into the life of a nameless music student before, during, and after that pivotal moment in their life when they decide that they want to major in music and do it their entire life. Vignette right now. May become vignette(s) if inspiration strikes.

Disclaimer: I don't own Nodame Cantabile. Sorry, my drawing skills are pitiful.

* * *

It had started as part of a schedule.

2:30 to 3:30 pm, right after math tutoring and before tennis lessons. Piano, that is. Nothing more, nothing less. It had its one hour block of lessons after lunch on Wednesdays and one hour block of practice every day in the morning. Nothing special.

As I grew older, the tennis and math lessons and most other things disappeared. The music never did. Oh there were times when it came close, but it never ended permanently.

Clarinet didn't come until later in seventh grade. The school band was loud and noisy and since I was in the lowest, no one was really good. I'm not going to say anything cheesy like how they all tried hard, and that made up for their lack of skill because they didn't. Most were just lazy slackers who wanted the elective on their transcripts to look good for college applications, talking obnoxiously when we weren't rehearsing and sometimes even when we were. But…I remember the moment that I first heard the entire band playing together, and it was so different from anything that I had heard before in my tame square box of restrained piano. All the instruments playing together at once sounded so vibrant and full of life, like a whole world had just opened up before my eyes. Of course now I look back and can tell that the tone was weak and unsupported and that the pitch was all over the place, but at that moment it was the most beautiful thing that I had ever heard.

Years later I still remember that moment. It was like a constant shadow following me around in the back of mind during my freshman year of college. I was majoring in premed. In between the constant studying and cramming and memorizing I could hear it.

And at the end of the year I remember that awful moment where I told my parents that I was going to switch majors to music. And I can remember that long period of silence before the screaming broke out.

"What are you going to do with your life? Play music? This is reality. What will you do when no one will hire you? In this economy, the musicians are the first to get laid off."

" You're not good enough to make it. Do you see those teenagers winning those national contests on the news every day? Stop dreaming! Only that small percentage will actually make enough to survive on their own."

And at the sight of my stubbornly set chin the pleading and cajoling crept in.

"You have so much ahead of you. Just look at your grades this year. You could be earning hundreds of thousands of dollars in the future."

And then, finally, the inevitable accusations.

"Haven't we provided for you all these years? And this is how you repay us! You're not getting any more of my hard earned money if you decide to waste it learning something as foolish as music."

And then it just escalated from there until I was packing up my clothes and everything was a blur. I remember my father's angry shouts and my mother's tears and frantic pleading in a wave of sound. And then I was out the door.

Standing on the sidewalk with my suitcase full of hastily packed clothes, I can smell the sweet scent of night air and feel the slightly warm breeze blowing and hear the crickets chirping. And despite just getting myself possibly disowned and being suddenly alone in the world, I feel a pressure I never knew existed lift from my shoulders. I might look back on this moment years from now in regret or sadness, but right now…I feel free. And the constant presence of that moment in band seems to fade away and I finally hear blessed silence. I can finally shed the blemished and mistake-ridden melody of the past and fill it with new sound, the beautiful symphony of my new life. And sure, there will be sections with rests and decrescendos, but in the end it's mine and completely worth fighting for because otherwise my life would have been colorless like it was before that day five years ago.

D.C. al Coda.

Da Capo al Coda.

Repeat from the beginning to the coda, a new ending.

.

_Fin._

* * *

This is not me encouraging you to get yourself disowned. You should definitely follow your dreams, but preferably find a way to do it without getting tossed into the street. I'm reading over it again right now, and am a bit to lazy to edit. Maybe I'll go back someday and look it over again and fix some awkward spots, maybe flesh it out a bit and make the shifts less abrupt and the pace slower since it feels rushed. Wow, when I get started editing myself it feels like I just can't stop. It feels like a blessing and a curse to have so many unfinished works saved on my hard drive. Review?


End file.
